Helen
by The First Blue
Summary: Paris was the fire that had spurred her dead soul. He saved her from the gray doom of her fate. Yet, she was not his. Her heart had always belonged to the one whom she could not have. The gods would never allow it, and his virtue and integrity would never allow him. She was trapped inside the walls that had saved her, and her heart would not let her escape.


**Helen of Troy**

_Hector!_

I stood under the wooden structure, trying futilely to blend into the beige stones and columns. The streets of Troy had been abandoned on this lost day. Today was a day of reckoning, of reconciliation, and of pain. I had commanded the rise of this day. The blame was mine and mine alone.

I had commanded this war, and I will journey the Styx with its burden on my back.

_Hector!_

Oh! There it sounded again. The voice of Achilles. One filled with agony, pain, and determination. It rattled my bones, this voice. I had caused his agony. My hands were stained with the blood of his cousin, one so loved. Here, I have pitted two burning hearts against each other.

Achilles, seeker of blood.

Hector, gentle son of Troy.

The wood creaked above me and I saw Andromache climb the steps, shakily. Her son, beautiful and lovely, squirmed in her arms, in his own curiosity. Her cheeks were wet with tears, her eyes were red with tears.

_Hector!_

I swallowed painfully as I saw Andromache's head snap back behind her, as if she could see the Greek warrior beyond the walls. As if her sweet, broken face could plead for the life of her love. Her son quieted as he noticed his mother's solemnity.

I saw Hector, then. Andromache was still turned towards the wall and I watched, my heart breaking, as Hector's face shook with grief as he regarded his wife. He composed himself as she turned to face him. They embraced. A family borne of love.

A father with his bouncing boy.

A husband clutched in the sorrow of his only love, his only wife.

A mother desperate for the return of normalcy. He was her life.

_Hector!_

I looked away from my sin. I was unfit to behold the beauty that I had charted for destruction.

I heard Hector descending the steps and I flattened myself further onto the column. The pain and sadness had been washed from his face as he looked ahead to the large gates. The few soldiers near the entrance bowed in reverence as he walked past them.

Gods! This man, who held so much love for his country and family, walked on bravely into the open arms of death. I couldn't…I had to…

I sprung away from under the shadows and walked silently behind him. He caught my presence and turned. His eyes flew over me. I could almost see my guilt reflected in his eyes.

He turned away and signaled the opening of the gates.

I walked closer to him as his eyes came back to me. I had too many things to say to him, but my voice was lost and forgotten. The dam of tears broke from behind my composure as I looked up to see his warm eyes. Oh, Hector!

His hands softly grasped my forearms as he steadied me and whispered lost words of comfort. I shook even harder as I felt his lips on my forehead and, again, on my cheek. He wiped my tears and sighed heavily as we both realized the reality of this situation.

_Hector!_

He broke from me and outfitted his helmet atop his head. His sword and shield were presented, and he garbed himself in protection. He stood, before me, a master of war. The noblest of all.

_Hector!_

"Go, my princess…" he spoke, a broken smile upon his lips. He turned away and walked away.

I watched in agony as he left me.

Hector was the one that I loved. Hector was the only man of goodness that I had come to know. I loved him with all abandon. I loved him with a broken heart and a broken life. I loved him and he could never love me.

Oh, Hector!

The gates shut loudly and I fell there, on the ground. I yelled to the skies, to the gods. I was a curse. A demon brought upon this earth. I was cursed of beauty. I was cursed of love. I was not born to be loved or to love. I was born to be beautiful. Hector, the only man whom I loved, would die in the guise of my name.

And I would die, in his name and for his sake. I would die in spirit if he were to depart this day.

Then, he would see me. The Helen that was not the Helen of this earth. He would see me in spirit, by the shores of the Styx.

Hector, my love.

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**This is a one-shot that I might be open to extending to a narrative. Please comment on what you think. I never liked how the movie did not develop or characterize Helen as much as I wanted it to. What do y'all think?  
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_If you haven't check out my other story, **Ismene. :)** __  
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